


Beneath the Waves

by korvidae



Series: Fire Siblings Week 2020 [5]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Ba Sing Se, Fire Siblings Week 2020, Gen, Hallucinations, Illness, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:36:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27168730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/korvidae/pseuds/korvidae
Summary: A strange feeling bloomed in Zuko’s chest as he listened to them. The only way he could think to describe it was like a ship becoming separated from its anchor.He was lost at sea.Or: While in Ba Sing Se, Zuko considers what might have been. (Fire Siblings Week 2020 Day 5: What If?)
Relationships: Azula & Zuko (Avatar), Iroh & Zuko (Avatar)
Series: Fire Siblings Week 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1978597
Comments: 4
Kudos: 43





	Beneath the Waves

**Author's Note:**

> Set in an alternate version of Book 2 Chapters 17-18 where more than 48 hours transpired between the two episodes. (Also includes quotes from _The Search_ ).

Zuko had first become aware of them the night he and Uncle Iroh had moved into their apartment in Ba Sing Se. Uncle had been out buying supplies, leaving Zuko alone with nothing to distract him. Rolling up a jacket to use as a pillow, he decided to lay down and rest his eyes until his Uncle’s return.

The mother had come home first. Through the thin walls, he could hear the door’s quiet closure, her shuffling feet as she walked back and forth through the apartment a few times, eventually settling on the opposite side of their shared wall where the kitchen was situated.

The eldest daughter came home next. The door opened and closed just a little bit louder.

“Hi, mom! How was work?” Her voice was clear and pleasant. Thanks to the lack of insulation, Zuko learned the mother was a seamstress and spent long, tedious hours mending and altering clothing for the wealthy. (Zuko suddenly felt a little self-conscious about the number of clothes he owned—or _used_ to own, at any rate). The daughter was an assistant to an apothecary, balancing his books and managing his supply orders. Clearly, she was educated; her name was Emiko.

Feet padded across the floor once, twice, and then he heard Emiko say: “Alright, I’m getting Ayumi,” and was out the door.

Uncle Iroh had returned, arms full of produce, a copper pot, and a sack of rice tied around his shoulders. It was then that Zuko realized he had been lying down in the dark.

“Everything alright?” Uncle Iroh asked, putting down his haul and looking around for their flint to light a lamp.

“Uh, yeah,” Zuko replied, suddenly feeling incredibly awkward. He jumped to his feet, realizing that he probably ought to be doing something.

“Need any help?”

* * *

Over the next day or so, routines were established, and he began to get a clearer picture of the family next door. When he and Uncle closed the tea shop, they crossed paths with Emiko and Ayumi as they returned home in the evenings. The girls were friendly enough, nodding and smiling at him and Uncle when they passed in the hall or the stairwell, even bothering to make small talk if they were both heading toward their apartments at the same time.

( _“I’m Lee; my uncle and I just moved in next door.”_

_“Oh, you’re the new tenants! It’s so nice to meet you!”_

And so on).

Once, Uncle Iroh had insinuated to Zuko that Emiko seemed like a responsible, hardworking young woman. (“ _Not to mention rather attractive_!”) Zuko pointedly ignored him. It was bad enough that, by no fault of his own, he had become privy to the minutia of her day-to-day life; he didn’t need to feel like a _pervert_ on top of everything else.

* * *

Zuko sometimes wished he didn’t find his neighbors interesting. It felt so transgressive, knowing what he did about complete strangers, especially when he considered his position within the Fire Nation and theirs as citizens of the Earth Kingdom. He felt like a spy.

There was no father. Whether he had died or was only absent was unclear. The three women took care of each other; they pooled their money for clothes and supplies, with Emiko and her mother using their wages to ensure Ayumi could get an education. Emiko helped Ayumi with homework and insisted that she put off courtship until Ayumi had graduated.

When they ate together, there was a continuous shift in emotion and conversation. One minute, the women would be arguing about something, the next laughing, the next passionately giving advice or jumping the others’ defense. These women loved each other. This was family.

A strange feeling bloomed into Zuko’s chest as he listened to them. The only way he could think to describe it was like a ship becoming separated from its anchor.

He was lost at sea.

* * *

Zuko was quite convinced that he was dying.

He and Uncle had returned from Lake Laogai the evening before. Zuko was barely through the doorway before he had collapsed.

_“It’s time for you to look inward and begin asking yourself the big questions: who are you, and what do you want?”_

This was not an illness of the body—it was one of the soul.

Now Uncle had left; Zuko couldn’t recall why, only that he had been assured he wouldn’t be gone long. In his muddled consciousness, he could make out the sounds of Emiko and Ayumi arguing through the wall.

“I can’t believe you! Why would you do something like that? What is _wrong_ with you?” Emiko sounded like she was on the verge of tears. Ayumi said something in a low, angry voice in response, but Zuko couldn’t make it out. His vision was getting blurry.

Then everything went black.

 _“What is_ wrong _with you?”_

This time, it was his voice saying it. He sounded angry and exasperated, and he was saying it to someone else. He was speaking to an extremely specific someone.

He was speaking to Azula.

* * *

He was in the palace garden, but the colors were all wrong.

A butterfly went up in flames.

 _“Why did you do that?! What is_ wrong _with you?!”_

It was hard to breathe; his chest burned. Zuko felt like he was swimming against the current.

He hated her. Hated her cruelty and spitefulness. Hated how her selfishness was always rewarded. How her lies led only to triumph. He hated how she never had to struggle, how easily things came to her.

How she never had to learn.

Zuko shook.

 _He_ had to learn. He never had a choice. Every time he screwed up, he was given nothing but shit for it. He was always a failure.

_Why can’t you figure it out? Azula’s got it._

_Despite being two years younger, how many more forms has she mastered than you?_

_Azula was born lucky; you’re lucky to have been born._

Another wave pulled him down. Emiko and Ayumi were smiling before him as they let themselves into their apartment. They wished him goodnight. Their mother laughed in the distance. ( _Or was it his mother?_ )

Why did everything have to go to shit?

Zuko’s fevered brain entertained dangerous, treasonous notions.

What if Ozai had been the one who was banished? What if his grandfather had heard his request and, instead of directing the brunt of the offense to Zuko, sent it to its worthy target? If Uncle Iroh had taken the throne with the explicit promise that it would only be until Zuko was ready?

Royalty was all about rules. He could remember the prescribed order of things like a series of steps for an archaic dance.

He’d have finished school, for one. After Lu Ten’s death, he would have suddenly been thrust into the line of succession. The focus of his studies would’ve moved away from military and combat training to political education. He’d be taught how to debate and would be brought onto meetings under the Fire Lord’s proverbial wing.

Azula would’ve been given a choice between formal and military education; she would obviously choose the military. She’d flourish there, and she would excel easily in any arena she selected.

She’d debut at sixteen, and every unmarried general or admiral in the Nation under 40 would line up to request her hand. Azula would adore the attention but turn them all down just the same.

When the time came for him to choose a wife, he would submit only one name: Mai. Following tradition, they’d formally court for a year and marry on the solstice or the New Year. Mother and Uncle would cry at the wedding; Azula would roll her eyes.

Once the festivities of marriage were finished with, Fire Lord Iroh would begin preparations to abdicate. On the day, he’d give a speech. His words would evoke images of circles, and cycles, and the notion of completion. He would talk about family. He would talk about the need to change.

_Winter, spring, summer, and fall._

And Zuko would become Fire Lord.

And maybe, _just maybe_ , without Ozai, with Uncle Iroh to guide him, he would come to the fledgling conclusions he was coming to now. That this war needed to end, reparations needed to be made. The countless widows and orphans needed to be accounted for. Sins atoned for.

A feeling not unlike being thrown beneath a warm and heavy ocean wave came over Zuko. He could even feel the sting of saltwater as it went up his nose.

He gasped for air.

What would Azula become if she could just wrestle herself from Ozai’s grasp? If she could realize herself, however she saw fit? What conclusions might she come to on her own?

She deserved it. Hell, Zuko hated her, but she still deserved it, maybe even more than he did. He had Uncle, after all; she had no one. She was alone with their father for years, and the lure of approval kept her from straying.

Too bad the promise of Ozai’s love was like the horizon: you could move toward it forever, but you’d never reach it.

A painful spasm wracked Zuko’s body. A sound that felt miles away sent a vibration through the floor, and a distant piece of his conscious mind surmised that this was a piece of furniture being knocked over.

 _Agni_ , Azula deserved better. Even though she used to make him mad all the time—shit, she frequently made him downright insane with rage. But he still cared about her. Loved her, even. She didn’t always make him want to, but he did. She deserved the kind of affection that Uncle had given him. She deserved to know what it felt like to simply be loved with no expectations in return.

Maybe they could be friends someday. In another world, in another life…

Zuko heard another thud, then the door slam. With strenuous effort, he pulled his eyelids apart. He released a deep exhalation accompanied by a weak whimper.

He wondered when Uncle would be back.

In the real world, where Zuko lay, Ozai was Fire Lord. Ozai commanded the strongest military on the planet. The thought of Zuko’s father loomed over his mind like the threat of a hurricane waiting in the ocean.

Dreaming wouldn’t change that.

Azula would have to make her own choice, like the one he was making now. He didn’t know what the future had in store for him, but he knew he wanted to find out for himself instead of accepting what was to be decided for him, good or bad. He wanted his hand to be guided by love, not fear.

In this strange world, there was anger and hatred and disgust, certainly. But there was also optimism, and hope, and love. Longing and sorrow. Heartbreak and euphoria. Families who fought and argued one day and made up the next laughed and embraced without any reservations—people who forged bonds that withstood any difference or disagreement. In this world, there was community and belonging.

If the average denizen of Ba Sing Se could have this, why not Zuko? What stood in his way?

Zuko’s heart trembled with uncertainty. There was danger in admitting, even to himself, that this was what he desired.

It didn’t have to remain in his dreams… _right_?

Zuko tried to swallow, but his mouth felt like it was full of paste. His stomach churned.

He wanted to do right, even if it didn’t fix things, even it didn’t make everything better.

As Zuko was pulled down into darkness once more, a strange sound reverberated into his unconsciousness.

It was the muffled sound of a woman sobbing from the neighboring apartment.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always appreciated 🥰  
> (I have a tumblr, by the way; you can find it [here](https://korvidaee.tumblr.com/).)
> 
> (Edited 10 January 2021).


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